Love is a Grey Area
by waterlilylf
Summary: A dramatic saga of love, betrayal and hair care. 1x2. Yaoi.


Disclaimer ; I do not own Gundam Wing and I make no monetary profit from writing.

Note: Many thanks to Snow for liking the idea and to KS for proof-reading.

Heero's POV:

**Love is a Grey Area:**

It isn't the first time I've picked up Duo's cellphone by mistake. We own identical models, so it happens every so often.

I don't even realise what I've done until I check my voicemails on the drive to work, and hear a totally unfamiliar voice.

'Hey, Duo, this is Brandon. Just checking you're still on for this afternoon. Five o'clock, right? I'll see you then.'

Brandon?

We don't know anyone called Brandon. The voice on the 'phone had sounded friendly and casual; a little like Duo himself does actually, but that means nothing. Even the people who call to try to sell us double-glazing or a new 'phone package, are deplorably familiar. Lamentably few people try to sound professional these days.

This Brandon is probably a colleague of Duo's, trying to arrange a meeting or something of the sort.

Except I know everyone who works with Duo, and he's never mentioned someone called Brandon, even in passing. Except….Duo specifically told me over breakfast that he was planning to leave work a little early to meet Hilde for dinner.

Well, Brandon was probably calling from a restaurant to confirm reservations. Something totally innocuous.

Brandon, whoever he may be, has obviously got his wires crossed. Another example of the inefficiency that seems to prevail everywhere.

Duo calls about an hour after I get to work. 'Hey, Heero!' His voice sounds just as always, warm and friendly and totally honest. 'Did you notice that we did the 'phone mix up again? We're going to have to get separate covers or something.'

I laughed. 'That might help, yes.'

'Yeah. Anyway, Wufei just called and said he's going to be about an hour late in to the office. His flight's been delayed, and he and Zechs are stuck in Montreal. You can contact him on his cell if you need anything.'

'No problem.' I try to make my voice casual. 'I've forgotten, love, are you going to be home for dinner tonight?'

The tiny pause before he answers may be simply my imagination.

'Uh, no. I'm meeting Hilde after work. I thought I told you this morning.'

'Yes, you did, sorry. I've been reading spreadsheets all morning, and I think my brain's been fried. So are you going somewhere nice for dinner?'

'I'm not sure,' Duo says evasively. 'You know what Hilde's like; she doesn't like making too many plans in advance. We're just going to meet up, and go from there.'

'All right. Duo, I'd better go now. I have a meeting with Une at ten o'clock.'

'My poor baby,' he croons. 'Never mind, 'Ro. I shouldn't be too late home, and you can tell me all about it then, OK? Love you.'

'Love you,' I echo, but he's already hung up. For the first time since we've been together, he's deliberately lied to me. Or no, maybe it's all just a mistake on this Brandon's part. A voice mail doesn't really mean anything.

Duo, my darling Duo, would never, never do ….anything like that.

Except, for the last couple of months, he has been behaving rather oddly. Nothing definite, just moments when he would go very quiet. We've never locked any of the doors in our house, but a few times lately, he's locked himself in the bathroom for an hour at a time, and come out very subdued.

There had been one evening last month, when he'd said he was going to visit Quatre. Trowa had let it slip, several weeks later, that he and Quatre had been to the opera that evening.

But none of that really means anything, does it?

Duo would never, never cheat on me. We have been a couple for almost ten years, since we were eighteen, and I trust him with my life, with my heart.

Duo would never betray me.

I tell myself, even as I tell myself that checking his emails wouldn't be a violation of the trust between us. We have each other's passwords; it's not even as if I have to hack into the account.

The first message in his inbox is from a Brandon Reilly.

_Hi Duo. I left a voice mail on your 'phone this morning, and I haven't heard back from you. I just wanted to check this afternoon is still on. I'm really looking forward to getting my hands on all that gorgeous hair again! I've got a few new ideas for this time, if you feel like getting a bit more adventurous. Anyway, I'll see you at five._

_Have a good day!_

_Brandon._

Oh God.

There is reply, which must have been sent just after I spoke to him.

_Hey Brandon!_

_Sorry I didn't get back to you earlier. I don't have my 'phone with me and work's been mad this morning. Anyway, I'll see you at five. Not sure about the adventurous things. Last time was totally perfect and Heero never noticed a thing. He might get suspicious if I started to change too dramatically, though!_

_See you later!_

_Duo_

_Again. _

_This time._

The words are burning a hole on my screen, in my brain. No. It couldn't be. Not Duo. Admittedly, other people's relationships go through bad patches. I know that Zechs' royal duties put a serious strain on his relationship with Wufei. Relena's boyfriends rarely last more than a few weeks, claiming her position as Foreign Minister invariably comes first in her life.

But Duo and I aren't like that. We make time for each other; we'd resigned as field agents several years ago, so we didn't have to spend so much time apart. We arrange special 'dates' for each other, as well as cosy evenings in by the fire. Even after ten years as a couple, there are still nights when we stay up 'til dawn talking, still mornings where we woke up early to make love and then watch the sunrise.

Except it obviously hadn't been enough.

_Again._

_This time._

I could, I think, have understood a one-night stand. Perhaps when he'd been away from me on work trip, lonely and bored and perhaps a little drunk. I could have forgiven something like that. No one, not even Duo, is perfect.

But this...this was premeditated. He didn't want me to find out. He'd been with this Brandon at least once before and he was arranging another meeting.

_Looking forward to it._

He'd had an assignation planned this morning. He'd kissed me breathless and offered to pick up my suits from the dry-cleaners, and reminded me that he would pick up our tickets for the film festival on his lunch break.

He'd filched the last piece of toast from my plate, and laughed his way out the door, turning his head to blow me kisses.

And all the time, he'd had a plan to meet up with someone else.

_Maybe we can try something more adventurous._

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I'd thought our sex life was perfectly good. Actually, I'd thought it was incredible.

Granted, we don't have the all-night sexathons we'd indulged in once - well, not on a regular basis, anyway - but from what I've gathered from other people's conversations, our sex life is considerably above average. In both quality and quantity.

And it's not as if he's ever mentioned any particular fetishes he wanted to indulge. We have a pair of handcuffs somewhere, and we've had some enjoyable experiences with maple syrup and honey and whipped cream, but Duo has never once dropped the slightest hint that he might like something more...adventurous. If he'd wanted to try cross-dressing, or bondage, or....anything like that, I would have indulged him.

I would have indulged him in anything.

He didn't need to go and find someone else.

Follow the trail, Yuy. My job involves tracking corporate frauds; if people are involved in something nefarious, there is always evidence somewhere.

Our joint bank account shows nothing out of the ordinary - no large payments to hotels or restaurants. Of course, Duo would never be that obvious. We do both have a separate account though, that we use for our personal hobbies and indulgences.

Biting my lip, I log onto Duo's account and scan his last withdrawals. A new part for his motorbike, a six month payment for a book club he belongs to. And, four weeks ago, a sum of money transferred to a business called 'Dying to Meet You'. It sounded like ... a mortuary.

Dear God. Is he sick? Is that what all of this is about? Is that what's been causing all his silences, his long periods in the bathroom. But I would have noticed something, surely.

It takes less than a minute to call Directory Enquiries and find the address.

As I drive there, I suddenly don't care anymore about Brandon or anything else, only that Duo is healthy and well. I can't lose him. Not after everything we've gone through; those awful, early years after the war when none of us knew how to adapt; our long, slow, tentative courtship, so full of fear and need and desire and love. We finally found each other, found a life and a home and happiness.

I can't lose him now.

Dying to Meet You isn't a funeral home. It is ...an escort agency, with its name inscribed over the door, in elegant, gold letters. Discreetly tucked away between a restaurant and a florist, there are posters of glamorous, attractive men and women adoring the tinted glass windows.

When I take out my Preventer binoculars, I can read a small sign by the door, offering personal service, tailored to individual needs. Satisfaction guaranteed.

It takes me a few minutes to absorb that my beloved Duo was paying some total stranger for companionship and sex.

Am I really such a terrible failure as a lover that he has chosen to be with some anonymous man rather than try to make our relationship work? I knew damn well that I'm not perfect, but Duo tends to view most of my faults rather as endearing quirks. Over ten years, we have managed to work out a balance between obsessive neatness and punctuality, and near-criminal sloppiness and disregard for time.

Or at least I thought we'd achieved that. Not that we don't still have the odd row over the bathroom flooding because his hair has clogged the drains, or my telling him functions started an hour earlier so he'd get there on time. But we've always made up after we've stopped yelling at each other. Haven't we?

I lose count of time, sitting there, and trying to analyse our broken relationship. Where has it gone wrong? Have I been taking him for granted? Letting us get into a rut? Not showing him how much I love him?

A part of my brain is telling me that this is all a bad dream, that I've somehow got the wrong end of the stick, that Duo is right now sitting in a café with Hilde, drinking lattes and eating those giant cookies that he loves so much

But he isn't. I slide down in my seat as I see his car whiz around the corner, the flashy red sports car that he adores, and park opposite me. I watch him pat the bonnet, and enter the building with a jaunty flick of his braid.

This can't be happening.

The door opens a couple of minutes later, and he comes back out again. I let out the breath I hadn't even known I was holding. Of course Duo isn't cheating on me. There's another, perfectly logical explanation.

Then I notice his hair is loose. His hair is never unbraided in public. Never. He takes it down for me, in the privacy of our own home. But now he is laughing, shaking it out and turning his head to look at the young man who's followed him out. Brandon, for of course it has to be Brandon, runs a hand down the length of it, and then holds up a section to the sunlight.

I would kill him for the presumption, except Duo quite clearly doesn't mind.

Somehow, I manage to drive home safely. Then I have no idea what to do. Wait for Duo and demand an explanation? Pack his bags? Pack my own?

Instead, I sag on the couch, and replay everything that's happened since this morning.

When the 'phone rings, I pounce on it. Maybe it's Duo?

'Hello, Heero.' Quatre's voice says cheerfully. 'How are things?'

We chat for a few minutes, before he asks to speak to Duo.

'He's not here,' I say heavily. 'He's with Brandon.'

I wait for the obvious 'who's Brandon?' question. Instead, he says, 'Ah, he's told you, then.'

'I know, yes.'

'Good. I thought Duo should tell you from the very start, but he was a little worried about how you'd react.'

'He…was?' I managed.

Quatre actually laughs. 'Absurd, isn't it? I told him you'd understand, if he just explained everything, but he said you'd think he was just being silly. But of course, it's Brandon's job to help in these situations, and I think he's done Duo a lot of good. And he's such a nice man; I think they've become quite good friends as well.'

'You've _met _him?' I gasp. Dear Gods, this was terrible.

'Oh, yes,' Quatre says blithely. 'He was at Hilde's birthday party last month. I think you were in Japan, weren't you? He's a lovely person. We all really liked him.'

'Anyway, I'm glad he finally told you. Partners shouldn't keep things from each other, even small things.'

'It's hardly a small _thing, _Quatre.' This is getting worse and worse. Duo, the love of my life, is having an affair and Quatre Winner thinks it was only a small thing. And he also seems to approve.

'Oh, I _knew_ you'd understand how important this was to him.' My friend's voice is warm. What in the universe has happened to that empathy of his? I'd get more support and sympathy from my laptop right now. 'I told Duo you'd be fine with it, but well, he doesn't like letting you see he has his own insecurities.'

'Insecurities?' I echo incredulously. 'What's that supposed to mean? I suppose you'd be perfectly happy for Trowa to do something like this, or vice versa?'

He just laughs. 'Oh, I can't imagine Trowa wanting to. But I'm sure he wouldn't object if I ever did. That is one big advantage to being blond though, don't you think? No one really notices.'

I have no idea what to think any more. Everyone in my life has suddenly gone mad. Trowa is the most indulgent of boyfriends, but I imagine he would hardly be happy for his partner to have an affair, regardless of his hair colour.

Before I can formulate a response, I hear a key turn in the front door and ring off hurriedly. The door bangs open and Duo erupts inside, shedding a whirlwind of jacket, briefcase, two suits in cellophane, newspapers, and several carrier bags.

'Honey, I'm home!' He grins at me, as he proffers one of the bags. 'Here you go; we went to that cool Italian place by the park that you like. I wasn't sure if you'd have eaten, so I got you some of that seafood lasagne, and a tiramisu. If you're not hungry, you can have it for lunch tomorrow.'

Looking at him standing there, glowing with life and laughter, I suddenly don't care what he's been doing. I love him. We can work this out. We can fix it.

'Hey, don't I get a kiss?'

'Of course.' I meet him before he's halfway across the room, and try to put every ounce of love and devotion into my kiss.

'Wow. I thought you were sort of distracted when I came in, but that was amazing!'

'I'm sorry. I had a hellish day.'

'Aw,' He winds both arms around my neck. 'D'you think that maybe I could find a nice way to make it up to you?'

I murmur appreciatively, bending my head to nuzzle the base of his neck and then freeze. I washed his hair this morning, loving the feel of the wet, slippery strands sliding through my fingers. But his hair smells different now to the products I'd used; the organic shampoo and conditioner that are handmade by a small local company.

He'd slept with someone and taken a shower afterwards.

Almost roughly, I remove his hands. 'I have a report to finish. I don't have time for this.'

He gives it twenty minutes before he comes after me, holding out a tray containing a cup of my favourite tea, and a sandwich.

'Hey,' his voice is just a little uncertain. 'It didn't look like you ate dinner. I thought you could maybe do with a snack.'

'Hn.' I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the screen, watching the columns of numbers fly past.

'Heero?' He took another step into the room, laying the tray on my desk. 'Is there something wrong?'

'You tell me.' I swivel my chair to face him. '_Is_ there something wrong, Duo? I didn't think there was, but obviously, I was mistaken, wasn't I?'

'What? I don't understand.' If I could have believed him, I would. But there is too much evidence. And above all, there is the scent of that unfamiliar shampoo, clogging my nostrils. Not the usual subtle fragrance of woodbine and sandalwood, but some sort of citrus fruit aroma. Too strong, too sickly, too synthetic.

'I know what you've been doing with Brandon,' I tell him flatly and wait for him to deny it, to say he had no idea what I was talking about, to admit to one enormous, foolish, never-to-be-repeated mistake.

'Oh.' He comes all the way inside, perching on my desk. He doesn't even seem particularly discomfited. 'How did you find out?'

'I listened to a message on your 'phone by mistake. And then I talked to Quatre.'

'Yeah. I should have told you, right?'

'It would have been...considerate,' I say tightly. 'I assume all our other friends know?'

He shakes his head; his braid, that glorious, wonderful rope of hair, swinging with the movement. 'I told Quatre. And Hilde knows, obviously, since she introduced me to Brandon in the first place. I haven't said anything to Wufei. He probably wouldn't understand why I'd want to do something like that.'

'Of course he wouldn't,' I snap. 'Chang Wufei is a man of integrity and principles. He would never countenance that sort of dishonourable behaviour for one second.'

'That's a bit extreme, Heero. Yeah, Wu'd probably tease the hell out of me for behaving like some stupid girl, but 'dishonourable' is going a bit too far, don't you think?'

'Actually, no!' I snapped. Was I the only person in the universe who didn't consider infidelity to be a major issue between a supposedly loving, committed couple? 'I don't think so. I think dishonourable is the perfect word, and if you didn't feel guilt at some level, you would have confided in me before now.'

'Well, maybe I knew you'd never understand!' He shoots back. 'And I was right, wasn't I? It's not a big deal, Heero. Sure, maybe it's more common for women than for men, but you don't have any right to talk to me like that, when I haven't done anything wrong?'

'_What_?' I yell. 'Nothing wrong? Where should I even start? How long has it all been going on, Duo? I know you lied to me this morning about your plans for this evening. I suppose Hilde was in on the whole thing; she probably thought it was a great joke.'

'No.' Duo pushes himself off the desk and moves to stand beside me. 'I didn't lie to you, I swear. I met Brandon first and then Hilde met us for dinner.'

'And that satisfies your idea of the truth, does it?' I have to turn away from his eyes, so full of hurt and pleading. He's admitted the whole thing, and he still expects me to - what? Pretend it had never happened? Go along with his pretence that it wasn't important?

'It is the truth,' Duo says softly. 'Heero, please look at me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, OK, but I think you're over-reacting just a little bit. It just happened, you know. I mean, I'm only just thirty, I didn't want to admit that I'm starting to get old already.' He hunches one shoulder. 'You probably won't be able to understand this, but I thought you knew how important my hair is to me. For years, it was the only thing I ever owned, the only thing I cared about that I hadn't managed to destroy somehow. I thought I'd always have it, that it was the one thing that was never going to change.'

'I don't understand, Duo.' Something in his voice, in his expression manages to reach through the steel armour plating I'd erected around my emotions. 'I know how important your hair is to you. It's important to me, too. But what has that got to do with Brandon?'

'Well, you know, don't you? I know it's stupid, and it doesn't really change anything, but it just makes me feel better. Like I can look at myself in the mirror without flinching. It's just - I know it's just a dumb, cosmetic thing, and the grey is still there, but…it helps. It just helps,' he finishes helplessly. 'And Brandon just makes it feel natural, although he wants me to try out some new colours, maybe highlights or something.'

'So, Brandon is your…hairdresser?' I feel like I've fallen into some weird alternative dimension. I don't even realise I've stood up until I have Duo clutched in my arms.

'No; he's _way_ more than that.' My heart starts to freeze again, and then he chuckles. 'He's a professional colourist, but I thought Quatre told you all that.'

'He didn't tell me…all the details,' I manage. It's all right. Everything in the universe is suddenly, stunningly perfect. He loves me.

'Oh, right. Yeah, he's a friend of Hilde's; I met him at her party a few weeks ago. I'd found a few grey hairs, and was panicking a bit. Stupid, right?'

'What's stupid is that you didn't tell me straightaway. And you're probably spending a fortune every month when I can do it for you here.'

'Really? You wouldn't mind? You don't think I'm being an idiot for all this?'

'I think I'm an idiot.' An incredible idiot for doubting him, even for one second. How could I have done that? 'And you know I'll take any excuse to get my hands on your hair.' I run one hand down his braid, tossing the little elastic aside and let the soft, shimmering cascade tumble free. 'I love you. Even if you're totally grey, or if your hair all falls out, you'll still have me. Always.'

'Always,' he echoes, snuggling against me, and then grins. 'And I'm glad you know; at least now I dont have to sneak off to get it dyed, or lock myself in the bathroom to pull new grey bits. It was stupid not to tell you before; I deserved you yelling at me.'

'No, you didn't,' I say wretchedly, offering thanks to every power in the universe that I hadn't voiced my suspicions to him. 'I had a horrible day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you when it wasn't your fault.'

'It's OK, sweetie. Listen, how about we just go to bed, and try to finish this day on a high note, hey?'

I let him take my hand and lead me into our bedroom. This is turning into the most wonderful, perfect evening imaginable. And tomorrow morning I am going to wash his hair with his special toiletries, just like I plan to do for the rest of our lives. Even when we're both so old and grey that we'll need a specially-adapted shower.


End file.
